


Burning Lungs and Ringing Ears

by Noblehunter



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Damian and Tim are good omega bros, Damian is an angry bean, Gen, Omega Shriek, Some omega harrassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21814132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noblehunter/pseuds/Noblehunter
Summary: Damian's gotten in over his head and has to reveal his identity as an omega to get himself out of it. Everyone has some advice with how to deal with Robin's dynamic coming out.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Comments: 14
Kudos: 155





	Burning Lungs and Ringing Ears

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to MyosotisTageteserecta for the beta and the title! ETA: And the Omega Shriek itself!
> 
> All remaining errors are mine.

Damian resolved, when he was at his leisure, to review the actions that led him to the unfortunate situation. Preferably without the added commentary of his brothers or father. Until such a time, he needed to find a way out of the rather narrow alley with a dead end and a dozen angry thugs. He took stock of the situation: the walls were close enough together than the thugs could pen him in with numbers alone and the walls were too smooth to scale without a grapple; likewise the wall at his back. The alley was empty except thugs, Robin, and stray pieces of refuse. All but two of the thugs held knives or chains although no firearms were in evidence. The contents of his utility belt had been depleted in the same fracas that had taken out his grapple. 

Drawing his katana, he brandished the sword to buy himself more time. The weapon’s weight in his hand reminded Damian that he could cut his way out easily. Once blood was spilled this rabble would flee and fall easily to his blade. Damian sighed. He knew Father’s rules were necessary but they were terribly inconvenient. Given the number of thugs and the close confines, he would not be able to bull through or slip between his assailants. Using the walls to gain height and then using the thugs as stepping stones was usually effect but they were irregularly clustered which increased the risk of being forced to ground. 

“C’mon little Robin,” one of the thugs taunted. “What are you waiting for?” 

“Scared?” A knife-wielding thug chimed in.

“I think a little birdie has gotten in over his head,” said another. 

Uncertainty that wasn’t panic bubbled in Damian’s chest. He could still use an omega’s last line of defence. He’d sworn never to let Robin’s dynamic become public knowledge but it wasn’t worth getting beaten to death over. Even as he set the option to shriek aside and prepared to sheath his sword and leap, adrenaline tightened his vocal chords and his lungs expanded. Tension seized his neck. This would be so embarrassing. He was not going to have a chance to try some other option. Soon everyone would know the current Robin was an omega. 

Omega vigilantes weren’t unknown even if Drake had been a sub-optimal Robin, but it invited harassment Damian had hoped to avoid for as long as possible. Still, it was stupid to refuse a tool out of personal preference. This might make it possible to escape without a beating. He took deep breaths and tried to focus on the exercises Grayson had forced him to learn from Drake. 

His neck and chest muscles tensed. His lungs swelled and his throat closed. Pressure pounded behind his eyes. His sheathed his sword, prepared to go on the attack and shrieked. 

All the pressure and tension exploded from his throat in a single pulse. Damian cursed his inability to sustain the sound even as he flung himself toward his dazed and stunned opponents. The closest two thugs fell to passing blows to the head. A third was brought by a kick to the knee and an elbow to the face. Damian flew sideways to dodge a wild slash of a knife. The dodge turned into a full body kick that slammed one of the unarmed thugs into a wall. Damian cursed inwardly, he’d hoped they’d be disoriented for a few more seconds. 

Two more slashes and a flung chain forced Damian to skip backwards. A flicker of motion to his left and he back flipped over a lunging thug. The conflicting vectors of attack and bodies on the ground stymied his attackers long enough for Damian to get free of the mob. He was still penned in the alley even he had managed to disable four of his opponents. His lips tightened. The thugs had adopted a formation better suited to evasion. While six were milling about, each likely unwilling to come within reach, two hung further back. Now that they were clear of the effect of his shriek, the last two would slow him enough for the other six to close in. 

Shit. 

A figure appeared at the entrance of the alley. Damian’s stomach sank even as he recognized victory was assured by Drake’s arrival. Of course Drake would be the one to hear his shriek and come to his rescue. He was never going to live this down. 

“Hey, Robin’s an omega!” One of the thugs had the intellectual capacity to spell out the obvious. 

“So’s Red Robin,” Drake said from the mouth of the alley. 

As the thugs started and turned to face this new threat, Damian launched himself at the thugs again and Drake shrieked. This shriek was a sustained blast of sound. Even through Damian’s earplugs and protective suit, it rattled his teeth. The thugs all clutched at their ears. Damian took out his frustration and embarrassment and envy on them. Distracted, they easily fell before him. Drake took out the two closest to him. Damian didn’t begrudge him the take down. 

“Nice work,” Drake said. 

“Tt.”

Damian distracted himself with tying up the defeated thugs. Of all the family, it had to be Drake. He’d just revealed himself as an omega and Drake was there to witness it. He was never going to live this down. 

“Really, you got them right where we wanted them,” Drake went on. “You’ve gotten much better at playing bait.”

“Tt.”

What was Drake playing at? He had to know Damian hadn’t baited anyone. That he’d just rushed in and gotten cornered. Now everyone would know Damian was an omega and his stupid shriek had barely made the goons flinch. He didn’t need Drake giving him pity compliments. 

“Are you okay?” Drake had turned to him concern evident despite his mask. 

“I’m fine,” Damian said through clenched teeth. He needed to get better at lying about his feelings. 

Drake gives him a once over, as if checking for injuries. “I know a shriek can be pretty draining,” Drake offered. 

“You seem fine,” Damian muttered. He tried to concentrate on putting the last few thugs in restraints. 

“I have practice,” Drake said ignoring what Damian is sure is obvious petulance. “Stamina for shrieks can be built up like anything else.”

“Thank you for the information.” 

“I’m just—” Drake began before cutting himself off. “What else is it?” 

“I’m fine,” Damian repeated. “It’s as you said, the shriek is draining.” He turned away to put a call in to the GCPD.

After he called the thugs in, Damian stalked off for where he stashed his motorcycle. He pointedly ignored Drake tagging along behind him. He could feel Drake considering him but they reached the motorcycle without incident or conversation. 

“It won’t be as bad as you think,” Drake said as Damian put on his helmet. 

“What won’t be as bad?” Damian feigned ignorance. He got on the motorcycle. 

“Being out,” Drake said. “It’s not like every single thug is going to try and sexually harass you.”

“Just half the Rogues,” Damian shot back. “I trust you haven’t forgotten Scarecrow or Penguin or Armstrong? Not to mention Mister Freeze or Two-Face.” He put a foot down to balance the motorcycle. 

“You left out the Joker,” Drake said mildly. 

“I can’t believe neither Father nor Todd killed him after that.”

“It wasn’t as bad it sounds in the report.” 

Knowing Drake, he’d understated it in the report. 

“So how is that not as bad?” Damian asked. 

“A half dozen incidents in my entire career isn’t that awful. Each of us has almost died more often than that,” Drake protested. 

Damian kicked the motorcycle into gear. The engine roared. “I don’t have to like it,” Damian said and rode off. It was a paltry last word but it would have to do. 

His nightly report was as excruciating as expected. Damian never liked dwelling on mistakes but errors had to be documented to be corrected. Father needed to be alerted to the use of his shriek. There was also the trap that taken out his grapple and forced him to use up his smoke pellets and other supplies. That could be a sign of increasing organization among the criminal element. It could also be someone had pushed his luck and was now rotting in a holding cell. Pausing, he made a note to follow up on any connection between first trap and the ambush. Damian hoped someone else would chase that possibility he didn’t have the patience for traps and conspiracies right now. 

Paperwork finished, Damian headed for the showers. He peeled out of his uniform and made sure it was appropriately arranged for cleaning. The rest of his clothes he made sure landed in the hamper. Once under the spray and in the privacy of the shower cubicle, he let himself go. Mostly let go since punching the tiles was stupid and regrettable. But he let out his frustration and anger and disappointment. Not loudly, as noise carried in the showers but in great angry breaths as he leaned against the wall. 

He tried to reassure himself that nothing terrible had happened tonight; that getting out of two close calls without a scratch were definite victories. He just couldn’t keep from imagining the endless petty harassments he’d seen Drake suffer. Once his mind started on those dark imaginings, he remembered all the omegas he’d rescued. The ones were a moment’s weakness or bad luck hadn’t lead to just a robbery or beating, neither of which Damian feared, but to a deep and intimate violation that left victims betrayed by their own bodies. Soon enemies would be plotting to do that to him. He beat his fists against the tile, hitting it with the sides of his hands. Smarter than punching if not as satisfying. 

“Damian?” Drake called. 

Damian squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want more advice or mentoring or whatever Drake thought he was doing. He lathered up his hair as if that would provide an excuse for not answering. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Drake turned on the shower next to Damian’s. 

Damian washes the suds from his hair and rolled his eyes. “No,” he said in case Drake couldn’t take a hint. 

“If you say so.”

He could swear Drake had been taking lessons from Grayson. Damian rushed the rest of his shower in an attempt to escape to his room before Drake was done. He’d just pulled on a pair of sweat pants when Drake’s scent billowed toward him on a cloud of steam. It was pleasant and comforting, the familiarity—but still not familial regardless of Grayson’s wishes—blunting the edge of rivalry that the scents of most strange omegas had. He let that comforting feeling suppress the instinct to face a potential threat and pointedly turned his back. 

“You should talk to someone,” Drake said. 

“Why does everyone keep telling me that?” Damian snarled, still facing his locker if for no other reason that to avoid getting an eyeful of Drake. Both men and omegas they may be but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a place for modesty. 

“Because we’ve all done the broody teen thing and we know talking about it really does help.”

“Tt.” Damian pulled a shirt on. “That doesn’t mean I have to talk to you.”

“Then talk to Dick,” Drake said with aggravating reasonableness. “I’m offering because I can provide an omega’s perspective. 

“If I feel the need for your perspective, I’ll let you know.” Damian slammed the locker closed and headed for the stairs. 

He hadn’t made it halfway when Drake called after him, “Now that you’ve used the shriek in the field, the training I showed you earlier might be more effective.”

Damian hunched his shoulders and let Drake have the last word. 

Everyone else talked to him. Father went over Damian’s report in excruciating detail, highlighting every mistake and missed opportunity. Damian knew the review was necessary for him to become better but it didn’t make it any less painful. The only saving grace was that Father sounded like Batman exasperated with his Robin rather than a disappointed father. When the mask cracked an infinitesimal amount over a perhaps injudicious dismissal of the danger Damian had been in when the grapple failed, Damian thought he detected guilt in his Father’s countenance. Not that it shortened his debriefing. At least it had been after breakfast. 

Grayson, of course, talked endlessly. The idle conversation was soothing but it left Damian with the burden of bringing up more contentious topics. A burden he became more certain that he didn't want to fulfill. What did Dick know about being an Omega? What could he say that would make any of this better? He wanted to talk about how he constantly had to fight other people's expectations. How people thought they could have something from him just because he was an Omega. So he let Grayson talk about nothing and didn't change the subject.Patrol started out uneventful. It seemed news had not spread. Either that or Gotham's lowlives were smart enough not to hassle Robin in front of Batman. It was reassuring that some sort of normal was still possible after the shriek incident. Todd, of course, did not appear until Father had split off to interrogate some contacts.

“So I heard your little secret might be out,” Todd said with his usual insouciance. 

“What of it, Todd?” 

“Just thought I’d give you some brotherly advice.” Todd leaned against a nearby wall. 

“Tt. As if I’d want any of your advice,” Damian regretted the reflexive response, though he assumed Todd would not take it personally.

“Sure thing, kid,” Todd drawled. “But I’ve seen a lot of people get hassled for one thing or another. It’s not just omegas who get shit, you know? And my advice is to pick out the first person to mouth off and give ‘em hell. The rest’ll think twice after that.”

“Thank you so much,” Damian sniped. “I’m sure Father will appreciate me beating someone senseless because they were a little rude.”

“I didn’t say to do it where he could catch you,” Todd pointed out. He stood clear of the wall and shrugged. “That’s my advice. What you do with it is on you.” He raised his grapple, fired, and swung off into the night. 

Damian allowed himself to consider the advice. It had the virtue of practicality. It would certainly be more pleasant than the stoicism Father would suggest. It would be hypocritical of him, since Father would demolish anyone unwise enough to harass Robin in his presence. But what was acceptable for Batman was often not acceptable for Robin. He was still trying to get used to that. 

“What did Red Hood have to say?” Father asked. 

Damian smiled at how Father insisted on pulling the stealth and omniscient routine even on Robin. “Just some unasked for advice.”

“You can’t let personal attacks interfere,” Father said without any trace self-awareness. “You have to be above such concerns.”

“Of course, Father,” Damian said with calculated meekness. “Shall we continue?”

Barbara and Stephanie both made a point of seeing him soon after the incident, though only Barbara made any reference to it. She re-iterated both Father and Todd’s advice with the caution that each approach suited different circumstances. Brown followed Todd’s habit of crossing his path on patrol when Father was elsewhere. Instead of advice, they traded insults. Damian assumed she was checking to make sure he was all right. 

Cain appeared shortly after Brown left. She simply asked if how he felt and if he wished to talk about it. As Damian was fine and had no interest in availing himself of Cain’s uncanny insight, he said as much and Cain departed as well. It was good that so much of his family had learned to be direct. Coddling and subtlety was for civilians. Damian much preferred to address issues head on though he often regretted the vulnerability he only belatedly discovered that required. 

Inevitably, the roulette of conversation turned back around to Drake. It was unfortunate that necessity compelled Damian to seek out the other omega. He had tried to practice his shriek in the privacy of the cave or when he could arrange transportation to some other remote location. Yet he still could not increase the duration or power of his shriek. The one suggestion Drake had provided was insufficient to release him from the plateau he’d been stranded on since shortly after he presented. He could not determine what about using the shriek in the field was supposed to increase the effectiveness of his training. 

So he cornered Drake after patrol. His predecessor’s wariness both pleased and vexed him. On one hand, the wariness showed that Drake respected his ability and showed a healthy paranoia. On the other hand, Damian did not want to continue having an antagonistic relationship with Drake. They were, if not brothers, at least brotherly and the only omegas living at the Manor. It made more sense for them to support each other. Especially now that they had cleared up issues of inheritance. Except Drake was still quick to assume insult or attack. It was frustrating. 

“Drake,” Damian said, “could we discuss further training on using shrieks?”

“Sure,” Drake said after a brief pause. “How about tomorrow? I’m a bit wiped from using the shriek on patrol.”

Damian frowned. “I did not hear of any significant altercations.”

“I just wanted to send a message,” Drake explained. “Some knotheads thought their muscles meant omegas had to bow and scrap for them. I proved them wrong.”

“So you adhere to the Todd philosophy?”

“Shriek first and ask questions never?” Tim chuckled. “Not quite, but there’s always a time for the judicious application of force.”

“Tt.” 

“So when don’t we meet in the cave around two tomorrow and we can go over what Shiva taught me?” 

“That is acceptable.”

They met in the cave the following afternoon. It was large enough that it was close enough to shrieking outdoors and easy enough to get to themselves. No one wanted to be around with two omegas practicing shrieks. Both of them were suited up to allay the effects of shrieks. Damian hoped Drake wouldn’t insist on performing too many demonstrations. 

“The most important thing to remember about shrieks is that they are are a defence mechanism. Their purpose is to stun or subdue an alpha who is a threat to the omega or their children,” Drake lectured. 

“Thank you, Drake, the shriek had driven basic biology out of my head.”

They stood not far from one of the edges of the Cave’s main platform. It would let them direct the main pulse of the shriek away from the equipment. That it put Drake temptingly close to the abyss was a thought Damian dismissed as old bad habit. 

“Actually, studies show that individuals perform noticeably worse at trivia following shrieks. Though they necessarily had to use voluntary...” Drake trailed off as Damian glared at him. “The point is that shrieking is a response to genuine danger. No amount of practice or theoretical instruction captures the real essence of a shriek.”

Damian nodded. “In the League, omegas were trained to improve their shrieks with ambushes and uneven armed combat. Those with real potential were placed in death traps that could only be defeated with strong enough shrieks.”

Drake shuddered and said hollowly, “Well, we don’t have any death traps and I couldn’t convince you I was going to kill you.”

“Too bad you don’t need to practice,” Damian muttered. 

“If you want to spar after, you can just say so, baby bat.” 

“Tt.” Damian hated that nickname. “Just get on with it.”

“Less extreme training focuses on imagining danger in order to stimulate the shriek response.”

“Do you have anything worthwhile to say or are you just going to repeat basic information?” 

“I’m getting there. Have a little patience,” Drake said. “Now that you’ve used the shriek in combat you can stop imagining danger and remember it instead.”

“That’s it?” 

Drake smiled, more like crooked his lips as the corners, and said, “Why don’t you give it a shot?” 

With a deep breath, Damian cast his mind back to the fight in the alley. He remembered feeling hemmed in by the walls and the familiar adrenaline rush of being outnumbered. Less pleasant was the fraying certainty that he could beat any mob of thugs by virtue of his superior skill and intellect. His shifted into a combat stance and felt his neck and chest muscles tense in preparation. 

“Now hold it,” Drake snapped using the Red Robin voice he’d copied from father.

In the moment Drake had spoken, Damian’s lungs had swelled. It usually happened the instant before he shrieked but at Drake’s command Damian forced his throat to remain closed. He trembled with the contained pressure. He wanted to snarl at Drake that he tried to hold off the shriek before and it did little good. He couldn’t even glare at the unexpectedly commanding man without risking shrieking at him. 

“Remember more than the fight,” Drake instructed in that same unquestionable voice. “Remember the frustration from staring down a fight you couldn’t win. The creeping despair that you screwed up and were going to die. That you’d let everyone down and there was nothing you could do about. Remember being afraid.”

Damian bared his teeth at the distant cavern walls. He had not been afraid. He’d been frustrated—he was frustrated now at Drake’s insinuations—and more than a little disappointed in himself but not afraid, not of that human refuse. 

“I know you plotted out how that fight could have gone,” Drake continued, inexorable. “You had to imagine what it would feel like to miss a jump or dodge. How the first blow would make your head ring. How it would feel to break an arm blocking the chains. Don’t give me that shit about not being afraid.”

Carefully turned away from Drake, Damian opened his mouth as if to scream. He hadn’t been afraid. Broken bones or concussions were nothing to him. Injuries didn’t scare him, even those as severe as the ones he’d get from being beaten senseless by an angry mob. 

“Remember imagining waking up here, crippled, and having to tell Bruce it was your fault. That you couldn’t follow in his footsteps because you’d been a stupid omega kid. That your entire life was in ruins because you couldn’t be bothered to wait for fucking back-up.” Drake’s Red Robin voice cracked as he swore. 

Damian squeezed his eyes shut. He remembered that despair. He’d pushed it aside during the fight and since. The fear of failure was omnipresent and not worth acknowledging. Fear was to be noticed and then place aside and used for fuel only in the most desperate circumstances. Drake brought it crashing back. The despair that he couldn’t find a clever solution, that his mistake would have disastrous consequences for Father and Grayson. He was afraid of how they would feel in the aftermath of his failure: their disappointment and pain at his suffering. His shriek burned in his throat. The overwhelming need to shriek mixed with his fear and despair and anger and filled his chest. He wanted to turn and blast Drake from the platform. He wanted to destroy the thugs that had forced him to remember that he wasn’t invulnerable or unbeatable; how they had made him confront that he was often one misjudgement from a fight he couldn’t win. He fell to his knees and struggled to stay up. 

“Now scream,” Drake said, his voice once again flawlessly Red Robin’s. 

It took a moment for Damian to remember how to relax his throat, to let go of the locked muscles and let the pressure out. A heartbeat of silence made the following explosion of sound seem louder. The shriek shredded Damian’s throat. It forced his mouth open to its maximum extent and his lips barely seemed to fit around the unyielding pressure. 

After a heartbeat of all consuming sound, Damian realized he’d managed a sustained blast. It felt like he was pouring himself into the scream. That it would go on and on and leave nothing behind. Another heartbeat passed as echoes crashed back on him and Damian was sure he’d be found lying next to Drake’s body as just an empty husk. He knew his lungs didn’t hold that much air. 

When the scream ended, he was still kneeling at the cliffs edge. His face was wet with tears and his throat felt like he’d been garrotted. His shriek still rang in the air as fading echoes and he couldn’t tell how long it had been. He started with unseemly force when Drake put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Are you okay?” Tim asked. 

“Yes,” Damian signed. He wasn’t going to try speaking. He tapped his throat. 

“Sure,” Drake said. “That was well done, Damian. I know how,” he paused as if to search for a word, “painful that was. Not just your throat but everything.”

“I’m fine,” Damian signed with emphasis. “I just can’t talk.”

“Okay.” Drake obviously didn’t believe him. “Let’s go get some tea. Alfred has a brew that will help your throat.” He stretched out a hand to offer Damain help getting to his feet. 

Hesitantly, Damian signed, “Will this happen every time?”

“You’ll have to do this exercise a few more times but after that it will get easier.”

Damian laboriously got to his feet without help. He hesitated again. He could feel his fingers twitching to form the words but wasn’t sure he wanted to say them. 

“I can walk you through it over the next few weeks,” Drake offered. He started off towards the stairs, keeping an eye towards Damian. 

“That would be acceptable,” Damian signed. Then he continued, unable to resist the truth behind the unmade words. “I’m glad to have you as a teacher instead of Lady Shiva or someone from the League.”

Drake gave him a one-armed side hug. “You and me both, baby bat.”

Damian squashed the urge to shrug Drake off. Maybe this once he’d let himself admit he deserved a hug. 


End file.
